When President Trump came to Utah on Dec. 4 to announce the drastic shrinking of Bears Ears and Grand Staircase National Monuments, he took a quick tour of Welfare Square on Salt Lake City’s west side.

On the way to the state capitol building, President Trump’s motorcade very well may have driven by a large public mural of the former Bears Ears National Monument painted on the side of a building on the City Fleet block at approximately 325 W. 800 South.

Over a period of nine days during late October, Artist Josh Scheuerman worked on the mural to depict the vast beauty of the Bears Ears area, which includes Indian Creek. He enlisted the help of others.

Sixteen kids from the Children’s Synergistic Learning Collaborative, a non-profit organization serving kids of all abilities, helped Scheuerman get the painting started by painting whatever they wanted on the bottom of the wall. He then later painted over it, but said, “It’s underneath there…all their love.”

The mural was painted with exterior, weather-resistant, acrylic Behr paint, with 9-inch and 4-inch rollers and a 2-inch brush, and it was dedicated by Carl Moore and other members of Pandos, a Native and environmental activist group, one week before Pres.Trump signed the two controversial proclamations shrinking the monuments and dividing them up into five smaller portions of land.

Scheuerman and fellow artist Renya Nelson hope to work with the city to create many more murals throughout the Granary District in the future.

Owners of the Red Iguana, Bill Coker and Lucy Cardenas have commissioned a large iguana art piece that they named Xochitonal after the mythical Aztec guardian of the underworld. After two years in the making by Utah artist Stephen Kesler, this 12 ½-foot tall, 1,000-pound sculpture now resides in the parking lot behind the Red Iguana 2 restaurant at 866 W. South Temple.

The impressive sculpture was unveiled before a group of employees, friends and west side community members on October 31. The unveiling commemorated 50-plus years of the Cardenas Family owning restaurants in Salt Lake City. “To be operating continuously in this environment requires community and people who care about us. We are really appreciative of that [support] and this is a reflection of how we feel about that,” said Coker.

Coker invited local community leaders whose “personal sacrifices are often unrecognized” to participate in the unveiling. “We are standing on their shoulders and in their shadows,” said Coker.

As a symbolic recognition of family, some of the ashes of Lucy’s beloved brother Ramon Cardenas Jr. and a photo of her parents are encased in the belly of Xochitonal.

Dia de los Muertos, or Day of the Dead, is a time when many Mexicans honor their ancestors in colorful, joyful celebration. In Mexico, some people celebrate near the graves of their loved ones in cemeteries. But here in the United States, they carry on the tradition mainly at community festivals.

Dia de los Muertos is thought to have originated during the time of the Aztecs in the 12th century, but some evidence suggests the tradition predates the Aztecs as far back as 3,000 years.

During the ancient Aztec period, Dia de los Muertos was celebrated during the month of August. It wasn’t until the Spanish conquistadors arrived in the Americas that it was later moved to coincide with All Hallows’ Eve and All Saints’ Day at the end of October and in early November. Upon discovering that they couldn’t eliminate the rituals from the people, the Spaniards embraced the holiday and added it to their own.

According to azcentral.com reporter Carlos Miller, the Aztecs kept skulls as trophies and used them during the holiday’s rituals as symbols of death and rebirth. “The natives viewed it as the continuation of life. Instead of fearing death, they embraced it. To them, life was a dream and only in death did they become truly awake,” Miller said.

Today, those skulls are incorporated into Dia de los Muertos celebrations in different ways. Miller stated that people wear wooden skull masks called ITALICS calacas and dance in memory of their dead relatives. Celebrants also elaborately paint their faces to resemble skulls. The making of sugar skulls are another way this tradition has carried on. People make them with sugar, meringue and water and then decorate them in memory of a loved one with names and bright colors.

Like in the time of the Aztecs, people will make altars and shrines dedicated to their dead, and place on the altars sugar skulls, food, drink and flowers that the deceased liked in life. Orange marigolds and pan de muerto (sweet bread) add to the festivities.

In past years, Day-Riverside Library, Rico Warehouse, Mestizo Coffeehouse and Mestizo Arts and Activism in Salt Lake City have hosted activities honoring this holiday and its traditions. Activities included paper cutting (papel picado), sugar skull making, altar decorating and an open-mic night where people sang, danced, shared stories and poems and prayed together in honor of Dia de los Muertos.

Jarred Martinez, Kearns native and former co-director of Mestizo Arts and Activism, elaborated on the meaning of the Day of the Dead.

“In Mexico, I know the celebration is much more widespread, and there are additional traditions that various communities follow, so, there can be a lot of diversity in how Dia de los Muertos is celebrated,” he said. “The general idea is honoring loved ones who’ve passed.”

The spirit behind Dia de los Muertos is that life and death are linked and both should be causes for joyous revelry.

One fall afternoon about 14 years ago, we drove past the haunted house, Nightmare on 13th. When my one-year-old daughter, Meesha, saw the gargoyle guarding the entrance she grabbed me and held on tight. I assured her that everything was alright. By the time we arrived at home, I had forgotten all about the gargoyle, but Meesha jumped out of the car and was looking in the sky for it. She was hardly talking at that age, but she must have recognized the gargoyle had wings.

The gargoyle eventually became a part of our everyday lives. He was positioned between our house and Meesha’s daycare. We started telling her that the gargoyle was friendly and during the few months that he was actively moving, we would make up words that he was saying. We would say in our gargoyle voice, “Meesha, I’m going to tickle you!” In the next year or two, she started making up words that gargoyle was supposedly saying to us.

A decade later my youngest, Marcelina, also became fascinated with the guardian of the entrance, only then it was a dragon. We told Marcelina, “Dragon sees you. He said, ‘Hi Marcelina!’” Of course we used our deep dragon voice.

When Dragon was not moving, we told Marcelina that he was sleeping. After the Halloween season, Nightmare on 13th covers the creature over the entrance. I explained to Marcelina that Dragon is hibernating.

One year, the covered Dragon disappeared for a few months. We drove around town calling his name out of our car windows. Three-year-old Marcelina determined that the other haunted house in the area had taken Dragon and chained him up. He needed to be rescued. She asked her older brother for swords. One day after passing the other haunted house, Marcelina turned to me and said, “I’m not going in there, Mom. Will go by yourself to rescue Dragon?” I bravely agreed.

A couple of months later I saw that Dragon was back at Nightmare on 13th. I was so excited to tell Marcelina. I picked her up from daycare and told her that I had rescued Dragon. We drove by Nightmare on 13th and she saw him. I told her that Dragon is no longer red. He turned greenish-blue. She told me that I rescued the wrong dragon!

It was June of 2012 when the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) was announced. A few days before the announcement, there were rumors that something major in regards to immigration reform and the DREAMers, as we have been known to be called, was going to happen very soon. What soon followed was a ray of hope. I cried that day in disbelief that I was finally going to stop living in fear and have a chance to make something of myself.

Looking back, the winter of 2010 was particularly difficult as the Development, Relief, and Education for Alien Minors Act (DREAM Act) failed to pass, yet again, this time in the Senate being just five votes short. I already understood the negative impact that this would bring to my life as it ensured that my future in this country would remain uncertain for an indefinite period of time. The feelings of fear, anxiety and loss of hope that came were too much to bear at times.

I was enrolled at Salt Lake Community College when the rumors broke, floating along with no direction or motivation to take my education seriously. My mentality was that I wasn’t going to be able to use a degree because of my undocumented status, so why bother? It was a sad place to be as my dreams of wanting a career were in the path of most resistance, and I felt it would be nearly impossible to achieve them. That would mean that my parents’ sacrifice would have been for nothing, and, when you have familial pressure to achieve, it begins to take an additional emotional toll. I was in the process of figuring out what other alternatives I could take instead of higher education that would at least allow me to survive and stay in the United States, as this is the only country I have known since the age of six.

President Obama’s announcement in the Rose Garden was monumental. After many failed attempts by congress to pass the DREAM Act, years of organizing and protesting by immigrant youth, we finally had a viable option – the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, a program created by the Obama administration after congress repeatedly failed to pass immigration reform and protect DREAMers. For those of us affected, America is all we’ve known, and DACA provided a sense of belonging and legitimacy in the country we love and call home.

Even if it was a temporary fix, it was something great at least for that period of time for me. DACA gave us a two-year employment authorization as well as protection from deportation. It gave us the mobility we needed to earn higher wages to help at home and pay our way through college. We no longer had to live in fear that if we were pulled over by a police officer we could be referred to deportation proceedings.

To be clear, DACA is not a pathway to permanent residency or citizenship but a Band-Aid solution after years of uncertainty and hard work.

I was fortunate enough to have saved up a little bit of money to pay the $465 fee and submit my initial application for DACA as soon as we were allowed to. I was in the process of moving to Chicago with my then-partner (who was also a DREAMer), as he was accepted into a master’s/Ph.D. program at Northwestern University. I was employed at a bank during my time there, and when it was time to come back to Salt Lake City, I obtained my insurance producer license – something I was not able to do prior to DACA.

This time around, I was serious about completing my degree. I knew I could complete my undergraduate studies as I was earning more money to pay for tuition, which ultimately would culminate in a career. Undocumented students, even with DACA, do not qualify for any state or federal assistance to pay for higher education. We rely on private scholarships and our own labor to pay for our education.

I met with Alonso Reyna-Rivarola, who was an academic advisor at the Center for Ethnic Student Affairs (CESA) at the University of Utah, to educate myself about what my options were to pay for tuition as an undocumented, first-generation student. Alonso influenced my decision to transfer to the U. I left our meeting with the necessary knowledge about navigating the institution to move forward in completing my goals.

The 2016 election had profound impacts in the immigrant communities. We were uncertain, yet again, what would happen to us and what the future of DACA would be after then-presidential candidate Donald Trump vowed to dismantle the program and leave us in shambles. With President Trump’s recent decision, we are put in a terrible position as everything we have built for ourselves over the last five years since the introduction is in jeopardy.

For me, it feels as if I am being dragged back to square one. I am in my senior year of my undergraduate studies, and the thought of not being able to use my degree after all these years of sacrifices and hard work is truly damaging.

So many of us have a lot to lose if there is no replacement for DACA. We are students, homeowners, small-business owners and, most importantly, Americans in every way except in the piece of paper we do not hold. My hope is that people start realizing the complexity of this issue as we share our stories. The immigration system is deeply flawed and the general populous fails to understand what kinds of hurdles we need to surpass to get ahead.

“This must be where I’m supposed to be.” For the first time in my 20-year-old life, I had this thought on top of a grainy sandstone column named Pinnacle II in Utah’s San Rafael Swell. It’s a strange phenomenon to suddenly feel like you’re home in the middle of a place you just experienced for a few days. Especially when that place is in the middle of the wild, desert land in southern Utah.

Even though I’ve lived all of my life in the Salt Lake and Tooele valleys’ urban centers, this was the first distinct moment that my emotions, and not my logic or my memories, asserted that Utah is home.

The University of Utah Alternative Breaks program brings first-generation college students to the Swell every fall to engage in community service. The trip provided my first opportunity to explore slot canyons, scale red rock boulders, directly improve the environment with land management professionals, and interact with diverse students like me. Our conversations were as decadent as the rough, grainy sandstone texture beneath my hands. On one hike, my hands dragged along the towering, textured walls for so long, it would seem that I was trying to make my palms take their shape. The shape of that land and our conversations has in turn shaped my memory, and my hopes for the future of wild public lands throughout Utah.

Primarily, I hope that in the future I won’t have to wonder why I am the only person of color in the remote public lands of southern Utah. Being the only brown-skinned backpacker among a handful of strangers isn’t a singular mishap. It’s a commonality to public land users across the nation. Less than 22 percent of people visiting for national parks in 2011 were people of color, and about one in 10 were Hispanic or Latino/a. That number was exactly the same in the first 2006 study of park visitors.

Public lands should reflect the faces of our country — a public of all ethnicities and racial backgrounds. Wild, natural places deserve to be enjoyed by the nation’s growing non-white demographic, but right now it is largely a leisure activity enjoyed by white communities.

Some say that this is a matter of economic accessibility — people can’t enjoy deserts far away if they cannot afford the long drive and camping equipment. Another reason explaining the racial disparity in wild areas is the general lack of education about how to enjoy remote, wild areas — the idea of driving hours away onto dirt roads where campsites and paths are unmarked is daunting, especially when maps are not easy to come by and information is often only available in English.

Additionally, for the undocumented communities living in the U.S., the desert may not seem like a place for leisure or sanctuary, but a threat to life — regarded as the harrowing obstacle on the march to living in a safe community. Harsh red rock environments may be undesirable for workers who have little choice but to make a living laboring on rooftops, construction sites, road-ways and farms in both bitter cold winters and blistering summers. In short, the great outdoors are one person’s getaway, and another person’s place to get away from.

Despite these barriers, people of color still value and appreciate nature; people seek wild places whether they are connecting with nature at the Jordan River, in a garden, at the park, or in a nearby Wasatch Front canyon.

The stunning characteristics of creeks in dry landscapes, wind-shaped mountains, bumpy slot canyons, and heartwarming campfires have the power to make us humble and remember who we are. This humility can show up as the feeling of our small and delicate place in the universe under a million stars in the night sky, or the recurring encounter with our own thoughts and dreams in the silent, natural environment. For me, it was the sudden feeling that in nature, at school, and in my city, I was where I was meant to be.

The wilderness awaits our return. Pristine, ancient lands especially call for low-income communities and people of color who are most impacted by environmental pollution and lack of access to natural public lands. They call for these folk to reconnect with nature and benefit from its awe-inspiring gifts.

The wilderness is also calling for our help. The Trump Administration has its focus set to eliminate 90 percent of Bears Ears National Monument in southern Utah which protects over 100,000 ancient indigenous sites. They similarly are set on devastating more than half of Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument for coal and oil development. These attacks are irreparable. Neither time nor rehabilitation can undo damage to the delicate ecosystems and cultural sites in the redrock environment after misuse and fossil fuel development.

Our treasured wild lands need communities of color to speak for its protection. That’s where the Southern Utah Wilderness Alliance steps in. Their initiative to empower Latino/a voices celebrates the community’s deep respect for our wild, pristine environments and reaffirms the fact that our wild lands belong to everybody. The goal is to amplify diverse voices, influence policy makers, ensure wild Utah is welcoming to communities of color, and is preserved for generations to come.

Join us is making a positive step forward into environmental justice — a step that validates all colors of skin and all languages in our colorful, wordless desert lands.

Olivia Juarez is SUWA’s Latinx Community Organizer. You can find out more by contacting olivia [AT] suwa [DOT] org or visiting SUWA.org.

At a certain point at dusk, the harsh, white lights of the hallways turn off and the dimmed, orange-colored lights come on throughout the school halls. This was my favorite time of day in high school, when it was quiet, everyone was gone, and the night sky filled the windows.

I was enjoying the peace. I was at my locker when I received a call, and I was excited when I saw that it was my older brother, Carlos. I had not seen him since I left Arizona and moved to Utah a couple of months before. “Hello!” I answered. “I’m going to California,” he said with a subtle voice. That was enough for my blood to rush in my veins and my eyebrows to rise.

My family moved to Arizona when we were children. We lived there for years. When my mother and I moved to Utah, my brother who was a couple years older than me, decided to stay in Arizona. Fear captivated our lives since we were told at a young age that we were undocumented, and we could not travel much because of dangers of being asked where the almighty papers and proper documentation were. Now, here my brother was telling me that he was going to California.

My heart was pounding as I expressed my worry. I wished him well in whatever decision he made, and we hung up. The halls now seemed to be against me, judging me because I let him go. Even though it was his choice, I knew that hearing my voice calmed him and made him feel it was OK to go.

As I was making my way home that night, I received another call from our oldest sister who still lived in Arizona. My heart knew why before I said hello. “Carlos got caught and they are taking

him to Mexico right now.” I heard the disappointment in her voice along with the words I never wanted to hear. “Let mom know, OK?” “OK.” The conversation was over between us, but not the war in my mind. When do I tell her? When is it a good time to tell my mom that her son had been deported? Should I wait? No!

I finally arrived home from my journey. When I went inside, I looked and treasured my mother’s skinny, already-pale face, her light brown bun curled on the top of her head, and caramel-colored eyes. I held that moment, knowing it would all change in a few minutes. The house was filled with a wonderful, warm aroma of her delicious food. I decided to tell her before we ate. My heart was pounding as I made my short way to the kitchen where I saw my mother cutting some onion. Chop! Chop! Chop! I stood by the wall in silence, just observing.

I asked her to put the long, sharp knife down. I took a breath, looked into her eyes and said with a calm voice, “Carlos is in Mexico.” A short but powerful spear of a sentence into my mother’s heart. “What!?” “He was on his way to California ...” I began. Tears were filling up her eyes. “Why?” she asked. “I don’t know.” Pause. “Everything happens for a reason,” I told her with a heavy heart. She didn’t appreciate it, “Pfft, what could possibly be the reason for this?” she asked as she wiped her tears from her eyes that were focused on the floor. I stayed quiet because she didn’t want to hear the answer from me, but from someone who is all seeing and all knowing. For, why did He allow our biggest fear to be this real?

There was a long silence until it was broken by more chopping, when all she could do in the moment was chop. My mother and I had never been close enough to talk about our feelings, so we didn’t. I knew she was in shock, and I accepted her subtle reaction with grace. I prepared the table, and we ate in silence. I was wondering if she was going to do anything else, say anything more, or express her emotions. She didn’t.

Everything else that night was monotone and gray. Will I ever see my brother again? Will he ever be able to step foot in the United States? Will I ever get a chance to see him without putting myself in danger, too? Lord, please keep him safe. These were my thoughts as I went to bed, but I fell asleep to the wonder of my mother’s praying words, both hopeful and questioning.

A few years later on a winter night, my mother gave me news that lightened my heart like no other. My brother was still in Mexico but she oozed all the happiness in the world. “Your brother is going to have a baby!”

]]>troy [AT] thirdsun [DOT] com (Third Sun)Fall 2017 - Law and Justice IssueSun, 22 Oct 2017 20:27:26 -0600Opinion - Time to find a new name for Jackson Elementary – one we can all be proud ofhttp://westviewmedia.org/2017/item/222-opinion-time-to-find-a-new-name-for-jackson-elementary-one-we-can-all-be-proud-of
http://westviewmedia.org/2017/item/222-opinion-time-to-find-a-new-name-for-jackson-elementary-one-we-can-all-be-proud-of

By Neal Patwari

I love my child’s elementary school. If you’ve been following what’s happening at Jackson Elementary, you know it is a truly amazing and diverse school. It is “the home of future college students” and connects its students to the University of Utah via the Adelante and Go Girlz programs.

It has an amazing dual-language English/Spanish learning program with a true balance of English-dominant and Spanish-dominant students. It hosts the El Sistema after-school music program. It won an Apple ConnectEd grant, one of only a few in the nation, which ensures every student and teacher has an iPad and can use it in innovative ways in the classroom. It has creative and talented teachers, an incredible principal, and engaged parents who care deeply about their school.

The school name just doesn’t reflect our current community’s values and strengths. In 1892, a school board member chose to name the school (then known as the 16th Ward School) after President Andrew Jackson. Although he was a U.S. President, we know that his actions included being an architect of the genocide of more than 10,000 Native Americans, known as the Trail of Tears, and the killing of people who escaped slavery.

We simply believe that 125 years is sufficient for having our school named after Jackson, and now our school name can express gratitude for someone or something else we all believe worthy.

Our school went through a process, over the past year, to collect feedback on whether the name should be changed, and more than 70 percent of responses were to change the name (including the possibility of selecting a different person named Jackson). More information about our process is at http://www.jacksonnamechange.org. This year, we are in the process of gathering suggestions for a new name, and would welcome your suggestions. We’d love to honor someone with local ties and contributions, or have a name connected to our local geography or ideals. Please send us your name suggestion at http://www.jacksonnamechange.org/contact.

Neal Patwari is the parent of a Jackson student and chair of the Jackson School Community Council.

A new bill, House Bill 239 Juvenile Justice Amendments, offers diversion programs as alternatives to incarceration for Utah youth offenders who commit minor offenses. The focus is improving outcomes for youth of all races through cost effective community intervention. The amendments, signed by Governor Gary Herbert during the 2017 General Session of the Utah State Legislature, relate to low-level, non-violent, misdemeanor infractions – such as disorderly conduct, possession of tobacco, or violating curfew – and places limits on the time youth spend in residential detention centers. The bill will take full effect by July of next year, with some of its provisions already effective as of March 24 of this year.

The provisions to the bill were recommended after a research-based, data-driven assessment of the state's juvenile justice system, led by the Utah Juvenile Justice Working Group, who stated in their report that “more than 80 percent of youth entering the court system for the first time are low-level offenders with minor infractions who pose a low risk of reoffending.” The report also stated that out-of-home-placement for youth costs up to 17 times more than community supervision and that youth who have never committed a felony and who are placed out-of-home in secure confinement have a higher likelihood of reoffending than those who remain at home.

The report found that African-American youth made up five percent of new misdemeanor cases coming into the system, but nearly three times that percentage were placed in Department of Child and Family Services custody for delinquency.

“One of the things that [our] study group was surprised by was the racial disparity that existed in the dispositions that were handed down by the courts on juvenile offenders,” said Representative V. Lowry Snow, (R) of St. George and HB 239 sponsor.

“Part of the legislation is to reallocate resources so that we can have truancy centers, mobile crisis units that work with parents and youth that need additional assistance. Primarily it's about providing those kinds of support services directly to the young people and their parents rather than utilizing the court system or utilizing detention. You’ll see in the data, the outcomes are actually worse for the youth that have greater court involvement, particularly detention, for low-level offenses. There's a greater likelihood of reoffending. The primary thrust of the amendment legislation is to intervene with our young people early – in a way that we get good outcomes,” said Representative Snow.

According to the Utah Board of Juvenile Justice, the H.B. 239 Juvenile Justice Amendments mandates that a child cannot serve more than 30 days for one offense, cannot be placed in an out-of-home residential “service work” program to complete community service hours, nor complete more than 36 hours of service. The new law also states that a child can only be ordered to complete a treatment program after a needs assessment test is completed by the court and that after receiving a disposition, a minor cannot be locked up for more than 72 hours while a decision is made about which program or placement is appropriate for the child.

The law also prohibits referrals to law enforcement or juvenile court for truancy.

Yandary Chatwin, Executive Director of Communications and Community Relations for the Salt Lake School City District, said of the changes, "Teachers are encouraged to do home visits (for students with truancy issues) at the beginning of the year. That way they get to know students' families. They'll get to know if there's an issue contributing to the truancy, for example, transportation or bullying. There are a whole lot of reasons that can contribute to a student being absent that aren't the students’ fault."

She said that if students don't return to school, letters are sent out and if the student doesn't return after that, an additional home visit from a teacher or administrator is the next step. H.B. 239 provides for the requesting of alternative aftercare services by youth and their families, such as therapy or job training or the utilization of a mobile crisis unit.

"Mobile crisis units are a partnership with the University of Utah Neuropsychiatric Institute, and they get called in and they're community partners. Let's say the student was possibly suicidal. Basically, the school may not have the resources in-house, so the partner is called in," Chatwin said.

Another requested alternative aftercare service is participation in Peer Court, which is staffed by high school volunteers from schools around Salt Lake City who are trained to hear cases. When referred youth complete the program, they will avoid obtaining a juvenile record, according to Peer Court Program Director, Kayley Richards.

According to the Juvenile Justice Oversight Committee, the amendments to H.B. 239, including the alternative diversion programs, will yield an estimated $58 million in averted costs over five years and see lower rates of youth recidivism.

Even when road construction was heavy on a stretch of 900 West in Poplar Grove, the doors of the Salvation Army remained wide open. Their fourth annual back-to-school bash held on August 19 distributed over 300 backpacks filled with school supplies to elementary school children in need.

This annual community block party seems to get bigger each year. Over 521 people attended this year. There was face painting and pizza provided by Little Caesars, and attendees received free vision checks courtesy of the Utah Ophthalmology Society.

According to Major Troy Trimmer, head of the Salvation Army Corps in Poplar Grove, this event essentially celebrates the west side and the unofficial end to summer. “There is a genuineness of the people with a good work ethic in this community. Even though many struggle financially, they don’t want a handout. Gang violence is also problem here, but we hold events like these to remind everyone in this community that we care,” Major Trimmer said.

The current location of the Salvation Army at 438 S. 900 West is planning to expand into other tracts of land next to the main building, which would include a music conservatory for children.

“We are living in interesting times of demographic change. This is a cultured community, which is what gives it its vibrancy. It's like a piece of heaven. No one in heaven is too Greek or Irish,” said Major Trimmer. “The ultimate goal of our church is to not leave people in the same physical condition.”

The Salvation Army holds regular Bible Study and Sunday Service. The facility hosts a handful of human services: utility assistance, a case-management program, a food pantry, hot meals distributed to needy families, and a six-week summer camp for children.

The Salvation Army is an international missionary organization spanning 128 countries. It has an Evangelical- and Wesleyan-leaning tradition, in which divine sovereignty is acknowledged in concert with individual free will.

Founded in 1865 in the United Kingdom, the church is a quasi-military organization started by William Booth in London’s East end where prostitution, alcohol, and looting were rampant. Booth gathered people involved in those activities with the aim of bettering them through his Christian mission. Following a dictation accident, in which a pamphlet called the new mission the “Volunteer Army,” Booth decided that it was not really a volunteer mission, but a Salvation Army.

Around 1887, the Salvation Army made its way to several locations across the Wasatch Front before landing in its present location, where it currently serves many people in need.